


Sherlock likes military men

by Doctorwhogirl13



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Military Kink, Mind Palace, serbia flashback
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 09:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5200091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctorwhogirl13/pseuds/Doctorwhogirl13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Not beta'd any mistakes are my own and autocorrects.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Sherlock likes military men

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd any mistakes are my own and autocorrects.

“So what do you think? Still fit alright?” John asked as he emerged from his room, in his full dress uniform. He was headed to a reunion at Barts, and said it was necessary to dress up. Sherlock was sitting in his chair, combing over the obituaries, when he glanced up to answer the question. As soon as his eyes landed on John, he felt his brain cease functioning. There was John. His John. Looking every inch the military man. Proud, composed, and in charge.

“It uh..” Sherlock mentally shook himself out of it. “Looks fine. However, if you hadn't eaten that second pudding last night, it would fit better.” He fluffed the paper and attempted to return to his task. But his mind was on John.

“I suppose that will have to be enough of a compliment from you.” John turned back to retrieve his hat. Even though he and Sherlock had been a couple for a few months now, he was no closer to understanding what made the detective tick. One moment, he would think he figured out something, then Sherlock would go and do the complete opposite. 

He pulled his hat on, turning back to Sherlock. “Right, I'm off then. Don't burn the flat to the ground while I'm gone.” The top of the paper drooped enough where Sherlock’s eyes were visible over the top. And they analyzed John. Slowly and with the grace of a cat, Sherlock's right leg crossed over his left knee. “I would never do such a thing. My experiments would be ruined.” 

John shook his head. “You are a royal git.” He chuckled and left the flat. 

Sherlock watched him leave, and sprang up from the chair. He knew methods of dealing with his boner that had appeared. He didn't know exactly why, but through methods of deduction compiled with previous experiments in Uni. He was aroused by military men. Something about the way they carried themselves, were pristinely dressed, and commanded a room.   
The temperature in the room continued its seeming rise. Sherlock shook the thoughts from his mind. Ever since he and John became a couple, he couldn't seem to relieve himself. He tried a few times, but nothing compared to John’s touch. And John was gone for the next 3 hours, 10 minutes, and 36 seconds.   
Sherlock returned to his chair, his feet standing on the cushion, and folded his frame to the ideal position for thinking. His arms came around his knees and his fingers steepled. Forcing his mind through the doors, he entered his mind palace, purposely avoiding the rooms that had to do with John, or of the times he and John spent together. Instead, he went to a room where there was nothing to do but count. A mindless activity, but one that would help the present situation. He sat at the long table, seeing the large pile of test tubes nearby. Selecting one, he marked on a paper, and tossed it to the opposite side of the room.   
An hour later, he had gotten into a rhythm. John forgotten for the moment, 3,579 test tubes counted, and his body back under control. He opened his eyes, feeling as he always did after spending a length of time in his mind palace. Relaxed, and very meditative.   
“Mrs. Hudson! Can you put the kettle on?” He yelled down to the flat below where hopefully he was heard. He was too relaxed to move, but he wanted a cuppa. He heard movement on the floor below and smiled to himself. She did hear him.   
“Not your housekeeper, Sherlock!” She yelled back, but he heard the distinct noise of her heavy kettle being placed atop the stove.   
Not 10 minutes later, Mrs. Hudson brought up a tea tray and set it on the table. “I really don't know why I keep doing this for you boys. I have other things to do, you know.” 

Sherlock opened his eyes from the revere he had fallen into. “Because you care, that's why.” He smiled at her, and she looked as if she was going to cry at his comment. “Now go back to your herbal soothers and late night telly.” He added with a flick of his wrist. 

As she left, Sherlock glanced at the clock. Only 1 hour, 46 minutes, and 13 seconds before John returned now. “Mustn't think about John...” He muttered to himself. He reluctantly unfolded himself and walked over to the tea tray, noticing that Mrs. Hudson brought all the items for him, but not the usual cream for John. He smiled at her attentiveness.

Without him realising it, his mind drifted again to John. Particularly him in uniform. Sherlock sighed heavily and glanced at the clock again. John wouldn't be home soon enough. Bounding across the room, he grabbed his phone and tapped out a text. 

John. Leave early if you can. Emergency situation at Baker Street. 

He sent the text, then composed another. 

Could be dangerous.

He smiled at the similarity between the present text, and what he texted John early on in their relationship. He hoped John would pick up on it too. 

The phone was pressed tightly between his palms as he waited. It wasn't but a few moments before the phone vibrated with a new text. 

Could be dangerous, huh? You know I can never refuse danger. Grabbing a cab. Be there in 10.

10 minutes. Sherlock could wait that long. He stretched himself on the couch, and entered a meditative state. It was the only way he knew how to be patient and pass the time. 

Before long, he was pulled out of his mind by the sound of a taxi door closing. John is home. He thought with excitement building. Mustn't appear too eager.

He settled back in, and waited. John's footsteps came up the stairs. Tired, after a long event with people that he didn't care for. The door swung open, and Sherlock opened one eye enough to look at him. His Captain standing there. The want came back in force. 

“Well, I'm here. Doesn't appear to be any danger present. And if there is, you are far too calm.” John said, the weariness present in his voice. 

“No danger. Just an excuse for you to leave the party, Captain.” 

John turned to face the detective. “Why are you calling me....Oh...” John saw the look on Sherlock's face. The one where he tried to cover up what he wanted, but it was one emotion he didn't know how to control. 

“Is that the route you want to take tonight?” John asked with caution. He never could tell what Sherlock was thinking. 

“God yes. You looking like that...I've been waiting for ages for you to get back.”

Sherlock sprang up and walked close to John. 

“Have a bit of a military thing, huh? I should have known. Your eyes were practically bulging out when we went to Buckingham. And again at the military base.”

“They were not! My eyes were perfectly...not bulging.”

John raised an eyebrow and looked at Sherlock's pants, which were in fact beginning to bulge. “Alright. Bedroom, soldier. Don't make me repeat myself.” 

“Sir, yes sir.”

Sherlock bounded into their shared bedroom, and heard John close behind. The lights had yet to be turned on, so when Sherlock turned around, John was perfectly silhouetted in the door frame. 

Unconsciously, Sherlock licked his lips in anticipation. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” John asked in his captain's voice. “Shirt and trousers on the floor.” 

Sherlock pulled off his shirt, letting it fall where it will on the floor, and stopped. 

He had heard the term ‘frozen in fear’ before, but never experienced it first hand. Until now. In his mind’s eye, he didn't see John standing there, but one of his captors from Serbia. And he was standing there, half naked and vulnerable. His arms wrapped around his chest of their own accord and hugged tightly.

John saw something was wrong when Sherlock froze. He could see it in his wide eyes. Then when his arms moved, the Captain Watson was gone and immediately replaced by the Doctor and lover. He rushed over to Sherlock, whose knees had started to shake. 

“Sherlock? Sherlock, you've got to come back. It's me. John Watson.” 

His medals clinked against his uniform and Sherlock flinched at the noise. 

John kicked himself, the uniform wasn't helping right now. “I will be right here. I'm not leaving you.”

He pulled away enough to pull his jacket off and toss it across the room, leaving him in his dress slacks and white undershirt.

He came back, and wrapped his arms tightly around Sherlock. 

“Sherlock, you're safe. I've got you.” 

John hadn't been told that much about Sherlock's time in Serbia, but enough to piece together what was happening right now. Clearly something traumatic had occurred with a man in uniform, making Sherlock feel vulnerable. And he had just perpetuated it, unknowingly. 

Sherlock had his face buried into John’s shoulder, and was still breathing shallow, choked sobs coming in uneven intervals. 

John petted the mass of curls. “You're safe. I won't let anything happen to you ever again.”

“I'm sorry...” Sherlock whispered, his voice muffled by his position. “I ruined it, I'm sorry...”

John's heart broke. Sherlock thought he was upset. “You did nothing wrong. Nothing to be sorry about.” 

Sherlock gasped for air as another sob threatened to choke him. “I'm broken. Why do you continue to be with me?”

“Oh Sherlock...” John found Sherlock's chin and tipped it slightly towards him. “I stay because I love you. It really is that simple.” 

Sherlock's eyes glistened with the tears that hadn't fallen yet, but John felt he was starting to relax. “Why don't I put the kettle on, and we will just sit on the couch and watch crap telly tonight.” 

Sherlock searched John's face for a moment, then nodded. 

“Alright, come on then, we have to get up off the floor first. I'm getting too old to fight gravity this much.” 

John got up and held out a hand to Sherlock who accepted. “I don't have a problem with it. Perhaps if I had been born in ancient times such as yourself, it would be different.” He smirked and wiped the back of his hand across his cheeks.

John laughed. “You are such a git.” He intertwined his fingers in Sherlock's and pulled them towards the kitchen. Without letting go, he prepared the kettle. 

Sherlock was watching him closely, and John could see his eyes were a bit glazed still. “Hey Sherlock?” 

The detective's gaze focused on John. “Yes?” 

“No matter what happens, don't ever apologise for being who you are. Who you are is what I fell in love with.” 

As the kettle began to whistle softly, John reached up and pulled Sherlock in for a soft kiss.


End file.
